


When You Break The Rules

by Impala_Dreamer



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Awesome, Dom!Misha, F/M, NSFW, Smut, Spanking, sub!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:53:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Dreamer/pseuds/Impala_Dreamer
Summary: ~A slip of the tongue at a panel lands you in some hot water with Mr. Collins backstage.~
Relationships: misha x reader
Kudos: 54





	When You Break The Rules

Another weekend, another convention, another panel with the girls.

You sat on stage, ankles crossed like a lady, knees peeking out from beneath the hem of your sundress. It was hot, too hot for jeans, especially under those stage lights, and besides, your lover liked to see your calves.

No one else seemed to notice or care about your unusually fancy attire, too focused on Brianna and Kim having a fiery debate over which Winchester would have been with which sheriff. That was just fine with you, it was entertaining to watch them bicker even though you knew they’d give the standard answer: Jody and Sam, Donna and Dean.

To your left, Ruthie cleared her throat into the microphone and raised a heavily painted brow. “Excuse me! Why does no one ever ask who Rowena should be with?”

Her angry pout made the audience laugh and Kim jumped all over it.

“Well, who would Rowena be with?” she laughed as she turned towards Ruthie.

Bright red lips smiled coyly. “Samuel, obviously.”

Kim’s face dropped with annoyance and she crossed her arms, popping a denim-clad hip. “Oh, now we have to fight.”

Instantly, Brianna was at Kim’s side, comically holding her back as Kim lunged forward, growling at Ruthie. The tiny redhead looked to you for help but you shrugged and threw your hands up, laughing into the mic.

“Hell no, I’m not getting involved here. No way!”

That was the exact wrong move, for the dueling trio turned to you, ready to attack. Thankfully, Brianna was able to wrangle Kim in, and the fiasco was averted.

“Moving on…” Brianna sang, flamboyantly waving at the next fan in line waiting to speak. “Hey. How are ya, who are ya, where ya from?”

The tiny purple-haired teen looked up at Bri in awe, nearly drooling at the sight of her bare midriff. “I-I’m Lisa-”

“Hi, Lisa! Nice to meet you!” Brianna smiled brightly and the girl nearly fainted. “You got a question for me?”

Lisa nodded shyly and swallowed down a wave of fear. “It’s for everyone. If you could have kissed anyone on the show, who would you want to kiss?”

Kim hummed into her mic. “Oh…”

Ruthie grinned devilishly and tapped her cheek, deep in thought.

You shivered and tried to hide your nerves. This was the exact sort of question you hated answering. There was never a right answer.

Brianna and Kim looked at each other and smirked, answering in unison. “Jensen.”

The crowd cheered, seeming to agree.

Ruthie knocked her head side to side, unable to decide. “Well, you know, I did rather enjoy smooching Richard…”

“Did someone say my name?”

The Trickster himself appeared from behind the curtain, summoned by Ruthie’s answer. You breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that time was up and you wouldn’t have to answer.

You were wrong once again.

“Y/N, what’s your answer?” Richard asked, rounding the line of chairs to stand next to Ruthie and drape an arm around his friend. “You’re awful quiet.”

Embarrassment churned in your gut. “Oh, I don’t know guys, I can’t choose. Everyone’s so beautiful.”

Before anyone could move on and end the panel, a fan in the front row shouted up to the stage. “You got to kiss Sam!”

Which, was true. The character you played on Supernatural had, in fact, made out a bit with Sam Winchester in the episode right before Dean accidentally killed you. Still, it wasn’t really an answer you could give.

“That’s true…” you agreed, praying Richard and the band would cut you off and the universe would have some mercy.

“And?” Kim pressed.

“And… Sam’s a… pretty good kisser,” you said, much to everyone’s joy.

Kim couldn’t let it rest and leaned in. “So, Jared is too?”

Heat filled your face and you bit your lip, sure that you were going to get in trouble either way.

“Yeah,” you nodded, smirking at the crowd. “He sure is.”

To say that the auditorium went crazy was an understatement, but all you could hear was your heart pounding; all you could see was one face out in the back of the theater, one face blazing with anger.

Misha grabbed your arm as you left the stage, practically dragging you off of your feet before you knew what was happening. You knew better than to question it, so you let him pull you down the service hallway and into a dark conference room.

Your pulse was racing when he let go of you, shoving you into the room before slamming the door shut behind him.

He turned, face contorted in special anger; blue eyes narrow, right brow raised.

“What did you think you were doing up there?” he asked, voice like gravel as he flipped on the light.

Swallowing hard, you batted your eyes and tried to give your most innocent smile. “What do you mean?”

Misha wasn’t buying it. He stormed forward, chin down, eyes tight on yours. “You. Talking about kissing Jared. I saw you.”

Despite his expression, you laughed. “Misha- I was just- that was just a question. I was only doing my job. Ya know, entertaining the masses.”

His upper lip twitched as he grit his teeth and growled. “Your job is not to embarrass me. Your job is to be mine.”

Anticipation and nervous energy swirled in your belly. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

He rushed at you in a blur, big hand curling around your back to grab a fistful of hair. “Not yet,” he assured you, teeth gnashing with jealous rage. “But you will be.” He let you go forcefully and you stumbled backward a step, knocking into the long oval conference table. Misha rolled up the sleeves of his blue sweater. “Turn around, girl. You need to be punished.”

A lustful haze overtook you and your eyes rolled just a bit. “Y-yes, Sir.” Before the words faded in the air, you had spun around and planted your palms on the polished oak table. Your bend wasn’t deep enough and Misha placed his big hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you forward until your tits smashed against the table.

Your breath fogged the shining tabletop as Misha ran his hand down your spine, all the way until he hit the hem of your dress.

“You wearing panties today, little girl?” he asked; tips of his fingers ghosting the back of your thigh.

Your voice shook when you answered. “Yes, Sir. I had to. I-I was on stage.”

Misha shook his head in disappointment. “Too bad.” His hand curled around the skirt and yanked it up, exposing your panties and lower back to the room. “I hope you didn’t like these.” 

Two firm rips later, your underwear lay in shreds on the ugly navy carpet. Cool air hit your pussy and you realized then just how wet he was making you. A moan left your lips before you could catch it.

“Oh, my little slut likes this?” Misha asked, dragging his right hand down over the globe of your ass.

“Yes, Sir,” you whispered in reply. “Feels good.”

“Does it?”

A crack filled the silence of the room as Misha spanked you, nice and hard, on the right. You gasped as the tingling pain spread across your cheek and sank deep inside, your flesh absorbing the heat of it.

“Yes,” you moaned, knowing that not answering him would lead to a worse punishment.

“Good.”

Another slap, harder this time, burned his handprint into your skin. You bit your lip to keep from crying as his hand came down in the exact same spot once more.

“Bad girls break the rules,” he reminded you, continually whacking your tender flesh. “When you break the rules, you get punished.” Each snap of his wrist made your heart skip and your eyes roll; your body was shaking under his reprimand, leaking with arousal. “You don’t want to be a bad girl, do you?”

“No, S-s-sir!” It was hard to think, hard to speak, hard to do anything but take each blow and drag it deep inside, let your body swallow it down. Your cunt was aching, dripping, begging for release, but the hits kept coming.

Side to side he moved, making sure to cover the most sensitive spots, knowing you would feel him the rest of the day. Every time you sat down, any time someone bumped into you, there would be a silent hiss and your eyes would grow wider; remembering your punishment, remembering his hands on you.

“Are you ready to be my good girl again, Y/N?” Another crack on the left and a soothing rub.

“Yes, Sir! Please! Wanna be your good girl!”

Misha leaned down, covering your back and pressing you into the hard table. “I’m not so sure.” His teeth caught your ear and you whimpered pitifully.

“I-I’m sorry,” you prayed, barely able to breathe with his weight on top of you.

“Are you?”

A deep shiver ran through you as his voice filled your mind. “Yes!” you pleaded. “Yes, I’m so sorry. I’m yours. Always. No more Jared talk I swear!”

“Then cum.”

“What?”

Misha stood up and you gasped as the air filled your lungs. “If you’re so sorry, then cum,” he said again. “Right now. I want to feel it.” 

As you took your next breath, Misha shoved his hand between your thighs and pressed his palm up against your cunt, pressing hard. Every muscle was tense and you could feel each line of his hand against your wetness, feel the heat from his skin. With his free hand, he slapped your ass once more and you came, feeling the balloon pop instantly. It was small but the stream of pleasure rolled through you, making your shoulders shake and your jaw drop in a heavy pant.

Satisfied by the flood against his hand, Misha grinned and tapped your hip. “Good. Now, spread your legs nice and wide.”

Your feet moved without a thought, shuffling over the carpet to spread yourself open for him.

Misha dropped his zipper and let his jeans hang around his thighs. “There’s my girl.” He was inside before you could blink, slamming deep inside your pulsing cunt without an ounce of hesitation. He felt like heaven after the beating, felt so good to be filled up by his familiar heft, but his thighs slapping against your ass burned. He rode you into the table, belt buckle stinging your sore backside; rough denim scratching your aching thighs. It was heaven and hell suddenly, and you couldn’t think for the pleasure building inside again.

Misha came, slamming you hard into the edge of the table, surely bruising your belly. You could feel the press of his firm thighs, the explosion of heat, his heavy breath raining down upon you. He stayed there even as he came down, letting your pussy convulse around him as long as it could. 

“Have you learned a lesson, baby girl?” His palm slid up your back as he leaned over you once more.

Dazed and happy, shaking and sleepy, you answered in a rambling string of words that passed no filter, they just were. “Yes, sir. Yes. I promise to behave. Always.”

“Good.” He kissed the nape of your neck and nuzzled in for a brief moment, breathing you in, holding you tight.

Finally, he moved away and you stood up; legs and back aching from the long-held position. “Wow,” you commented with a lazy smile. “That was…wow.” Your hair was a mess, but you did the best you could, brushing it back from your sweaty face.

Misha smiled sweetly as he righted his outfit, taking care to retuck his undershirt and adjust the sleeves of his sweater.

The big clock on the wall gave made you startle. “Shit! I have like ten mins before photos. I gotta go get cleaned up.” You shivered to clear your head and then took a step towards the door, ready to sneak out and find a restroom.

Before your second step, Misha’s hand shot out and took hold of your wrist, pulling you back. “No,” he growled. “I want my cum dripping out of you in front of all those fans.” His eyes were filled with the devil and you shuddered at the thought. “I want them all to suspect, to smell it on you. You’re mine.”

You swallowed hard as you stared up at your Sir, nodding in absolute obedient compliance.

“Yes, Sir. Only Yours.”


End file.
